The Prodigal Lion
by Shuffle Queen
Summary: End of 7th year...Neville's final interview...


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its affiliates. I am merely a fan of Harry Potter and that's why I have chosen to write this story

_The Prodigal Lion_

**Prologue**

One Final Smile

Neville looked up as Colin called his name. Nodding gravely, he stood up slowly and headed through the oaken doorway, a wave of despair washing over him as he stepped over the threshold, into the room that lay ahead. Upon entering the room, he noted the presence of the professor, seated at the maplewood desk before him. Swallowing his fears, he edged closer to where she waited patiently and then began writing as he hesitated once more. As he approached, inching closer with deplorable slowness, she motioned her quill, not once lifting her head, to the tattered armchair placed before her. He lowered himself languidly, taking in his surroundings and attempting to sum up the foreboding woman in front of him.

Her dark hair, still untouched by age, was pulled into its perpetual bun, not a strand out of place. He had always wondered whether or not it was the work of magic, or instead, something natural…as if to mirror her straightforward and unmoving mindset. Shaking his had mentally, he once more began his attempt to read the contents of his assessor's mind. Her head remained bent over, deep in thought as she neatly printed comments on the smooth parchment. The alabaster skin on her forehead creased and sharp contours arose as she paused in her writing, in recollection. With a brisk smile, she penned a final sentence onto the scroll, signed her name, and sent the scroll out the stone window, tied to the feet of a large barn owl.

Finally, after what seemed like eons, she turned and nodded at Neville, her dark green eyes piercing though his round brown ones. They softened slightly as she straightened her back and began speaking.

"Neville Longbottom?"

"Eh, yes…"

"Neville, this is the easy question…"

"Oh...sorry Professor."

She smiled wryly, "No worries Neville…parents Alice and Frank Longbottom? Aurors and now residing at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries?"

He paused, a little too long, "…yes"

"Sorry Neville," she reached and patted his arm, "School policy."

"No, I understand."

"Good, I knew you would; now, you do understand that this is your last and therefore, most important House Head Interview?"

"Of course," trying his best to sound neutral.

"Well, then let's begin," her brusque demeanor having returned once more, "Why do you think you were placed in Gryffindor?"

Neville swallowed again; he had not expected questions such as these. Somehow, he had imagined it would be more defined, not so much opinionated.

"I," he stuttered slightly, "I may not be the brightest student, or the best-looking, or even the strongest, but I still have my honor and with that comes strength that can't be achieved through plain practice or exercise. I can defend myself and my friends against enemies. And at heart, when in danger, my inner Lion will always roar."

That last line had surprised had Neville just as much as it had Professor McGonagall. She stared in amazement but just as quickly reverted back to her neutral look of boredom. Jotting a few noted down, she droned on.

"Next question: What is you most favored subject and why?"

Without hesitation, Neville answered, "Herbology…for its unmatched beauty and pure science. The joy of seeing a venomous tentacular nibble at flesh for the first time, the sight of a Mandrake's open mouth upon its first silent wail. The ultimate joy in being able to cure and create with Nature's own very best…"

He looked back, his eyes lively and bright. Pinpricks of tears emerged from Minerva's misted eyes; she hurriedly dabbed at their corners at the sight of Neville's gaping.

"Ahem…" clearing her throat, "One final question; for years, seven in fact, you have lived, thrived, and grown within the protected walls of Hogwarts. However, great danger is now upon us all…how will you fare in this impending battle and also during this time when the Hogwarts' security will come to a shattering halt?"

Neville hadn't anticipated, in his wildest dreams, such a question. But he realized, with a sudden jolt, that this intense question would be his last, and respectively, most important question.

"I…I am at a loss for words; I simply cannot imagine life without Hogwarts and its once-guaranteed security. But I will say this: the time will come when there will be a weighing of souls. Only then, can we determine, or have determined for us, our ultimate fates. The outcome of this terrible battle against…" he shivered, "Voldemort…"

McGonagall's eyes were wide, her normally pensive face abound with wonder and awe. She gazed at the young man before him, sturdy and strong-minded, such a change from the chubby, forgetful boy he had once been. He was mentally and emotionally strong, so unlike his peer group, more so than even Hermione. He was ready, ready for that job, that job she had yet to assign in all her years at Hogwarts. Harry had been placed in Auror training the moment he had walked through the door; Ron, a Quidditch Keeper with his much-loved Chudley Canons. Even now, she found Ron's bright orange Quidditch robes hilarious, always clashing badly with his flaming hair.

Hermione had been assigned a teaching job at Hogwarts. The fiery young woman, other than being madly in love with Ron, had been more than eager to teach young prospects in the growing wizarding world. But this one, no, this one was different. He was neither physically capable to endure being an Auror nor athletically apt enough to be on any Quidditch team. His smarts in schoolwork were limited, but his brain's sheer thirst for knowledge had made him a decidedly hard worker. He was clearheaded, bold in reasoning and not rash action. He made make a perfect…

"…Minister of Magic…"

Neville was thrown back from his reverie into reality, as the warm words penetrated though the deepest layers of his innerself. Unable to control himself, for the first time in years, he shrieked loudly, at this final bout of good fortune. Blowing a kiss to the charmed and startled professor, he streaked past a group of Ravenclaw third-years, which promptly moved aside as he barreled through. He hurriedly shouted "Sirius Black" to the dozing Fat Lady and then proceeded to burst into the Common Room, filled to brim with excited students.

They turned to see the newcomer and all stopped short as stared at Neville. The usually somber quiet boy was shining with perspiration, his umber eyes bright, and cheeks flushed pink. His lips quivered in obvious excitement. His brown hair was sopping, mussed and clinging to his pale forehead. Hermione was the first to speak, eyes glittering with joy as she strode towards the unabashed Neville.

"Hello Neville…you're acting rather differently today." She motioned to this slick hair and he grinned, white teeth reflecting his glorified demeanor.

"Yeah Longbottom…you really are," commented Ron, walking up to Hermione and sliding his limber arms around her waist, while resting his head in her curly hair.

"I have an announcement to make…I got my interview results back and…"

"What'd the old bat say?" interrupted Harry, who had looked up from snogging Ginny in curiosity. She giggled and pulled him down again, not before winking at the smiling Neville.

"I've been chosen for…"

"For what already?" quipped Dean.

"Yeah, what…Filch's assistant?"

"Ooh, what a coveted position! Wish I could be doing that!"

Dean and Seamus cracked up in puerile laughter, holding each other up as theyguffawed between gasping breaths.

"…Minister of Magic…"

**Author's Note**: My first Harry Potter fic and a damn weird one at that! This a prologue to an ongoing story, but it works well as a one shot too. Read and review as always…thanks again! Later.

Next Chapter: To Be Announced

Shuffle Queen


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